


For Erebor

by mysticalglade



Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Hobbit - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Angst, Battle of Five Armies, Blood and Gore, Brother Feels, Brotherly Affection, Brotherly Love, Canonical Character Death, Character Death, Family Feels, Fíli and Kíli Brotherly Love, Gen, Heavy Angst, Mother-Son Relationship, Original Character Death(s), Spoilers for Battle of Five Armies
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-22
Updated: 2015-05-22
Packaged: 2018-03-31 19:02:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,851
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3989200
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mysticalglade/pseuds/mysticalglade
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Battle of the Five Armies: the tragic, emotional and somewhat gory end to the line of Durin. Contains heavy angst. You have been warned.</p>
            </blockquote>





	For Erebor

**Author's Note:**

> I thought the main character deaths weren't focused on enough in the book, and I was not satisfied with how the film dealt with them.
> 
> Here is how I envisioned it.

Fíli closed his eyes.  _Mahal help me_ , he panted. His stamina was waning now, and hope was nowhere to be seen. Countless corpses of dwarves, elves and men lay slaughtered, and good warriors they had been too. Eventually he managed to battle his way over to a large boulder that was large enough to shield him from the chaos. With his back pressed this, Fíli sunk down to the ground and remained there to gather his wits.

_I can't do this,_ he thought, shaking his head in utter exhaustion. The burden of being Thorin’s heir had been crushing him slowly, relentlessly, and now, he did not know whether he would live to see another day. Roaring battle cries and the fierce clashing of steel filled the air like an endless clap of thunder. Fíli clenched his jaw, willing it to stop; it was driving him insane. His rapid breathing had given him a light head, and this only seemed to amplify the noise. Everything was hazy now, and that awful nausea had begun to creep in - the sort that one gets before fainting. When he glanced down at his hands they glistened with red, but he was unsure if it had come from him. He could not see. He could not feel. His senses were failing one by one, until he had no choice but to trust that his boulder was sufficient protection. Stone felt safe to him. It was home. In this he took solace, allowing himself to become numb to the battle, to duty and loyalty, to existence and reality.

 

* * *

 

“Hush now, child,” said a gentle voice. Someone was stroking his forehead. He knew that touch. There were no screams, no sounds, and his body was completely numb, although he was not aware of this. He was not aware of many things, for that is how one escapes reality. Fíli opened his eyes and blinked until his eyes had adjusted to the light. When he saw who was cradling him he could have cried. He had been away from his mother now for too long. Far too long.

“Don’t make me go back! I don’t want to fight!” he pleaded, "I want to go home!"

“Fíli,” whispered Dís. She leaned down to kiss his forehead, the cold beads of her beard trailing on his cheeks. “You cannot give up now, little lion.”

“I'm not ready for this," he said, staring up into a pair of smiling blue eyes. "Am I going to die?” he asked.

“My sweet, sweet child. Do not fear death." Dís caressed Fíli's cheek with a calloused thumb. "Would you rather die alone and forgotten, by that rock, or die defending those you love? Your brother needs you now.”

“Kíli…” A sickening feeling grew deep in his gut as he pictured his brother fighting, frightened and alone. “I can’t leave him,” he said. Fíli tried to move but he found that he couldn’t, and a few warm beads of sweat formed on his face.

“Sleep, my child,” Dís whispered, wiping the sweat from Fíli's brow. She took his bloody hand and held it in hers. “ _I love you_.”

 

* * *

 

It was not long before Fíli awoke. Without hesitation he pushed himself off the ground, willing his aching muscles to fight on. Gripping his sword tightly with both hands, he tilted his head up to the murky sky and whispered a promise to his mother and to Mahal. He did not need hope to fight on. It did not take a fool to realise that he was on the losing side. What he fought for was family and friends - not for victory or personal gain, he did not even fight for home anymore. This was about survival.

Fíli had fought bravely for about half an hour without tiring, his newfound determination giving him the strength to slaughter goblin after goblin almost effortlessly. It was only when he turned around that the fear began to creep up his spine. There, at the very heart of the battle, was his little brother. Kíli was defending Thorin, hacking his trembling sword at anything and everything in Thorin’s path. Thorin was bolting after him desperately, trying to get ahead of his nephew before he met the larger and more dangerous enemy ranks that Thorin knew would be impossible to defeat.

“Kíli stop!” Thorin screamed after him, his voice distant but clear. At once, Fíli sprinted forward, pushing through the thick of the fray until he reached his uncle.

“Uncle!” shouted Fíli.

“What in the name of Durin are you doing here?!” Thorin said, trying to look at Fíli while keeping an eye on the battle ahead. Now he had to save both nephews from this dreadful situation. “Get yourself out of here! You’ll have yourself killed!”

“I can’t leave you, or Kíli. We fight together, or not at all,” said Fíli. Thorin clenched his jaw and nodded. Arguing at a time like this was futile.

After slashing an orc to the ground they scanned the battlefield for a certain brown-haired dwarf. Kíli’s fighting had turned into a desperate frenzy. When they could see this for themselves, Fíli and Thorin knew that it was only a matter of time until he fell. Nobody could hold out forever. Horrified at what he was seeing, Fíli pushed onwards to try and reach him, no longer concerned about the danger. The only thing he feared now was the fate of his brother.

“Fíli, no!” shouted Thorin, blundering after him. He would not let both of his nephews die today, for Dís’ sake. Before anyone could reach Kíli, a well-armoured goblin lieutenant emerged from the ranks, mounted on a snarling black warg. Fíli ran as fast as his legs would carry him, but it was not fast enough. He had managed to get within twenty feet of Kíli before he saw him fall. The goblin towered high above him, knocking Kíli’s sword out of his hand, sending it skidding across the bloodied turf. There was nothing anyone could do now. Kíli stumbled backwards, trembling as he thought about what terrible things the warg's cruel fangs could do to him.

“Stop!” screamed Fíli, darting forwards, but the warg sank its teeth in deep, mangling his brother's legs beyond belief. Fíli threw up onto the ground when he saw what had happened, and Thorin let out a roaring cry that resonated throughout the battlefield. Everybody turned to look. Thorin leapt forward and slashed the warg’s head clean off its body, rage surging through his veins. Vengeance had consumed him now, and there was nothing that could save him. Without a care for the consequences, he charged forward until he was surrounded by so many goblins that everybody, elves, men and dwarves, knew that he was gone forever. Fíli panted uncontrollably until he felt quite dizzy, and stumbled over to his brother, falling at his side.

“Kíli?” he said quietly, his voice cracking. The warg had not been gentle, to say the least. Fíli examined his brother, forcing himself to look at those mutilated legs and the pool of blood that surrounded them. They didn't even look like legs anymore. Fíli leaned over his brother, pressing his hands into the blood-soaked earth.

“Fíli…” came a weak groan from underneath a mass of dark hair.  _He was alive_. No time was wasted - Fíli dropped his sword and heaved his brother over his shoulder, using Thorin's distraction to carry him away from the battle. The rest of Thorin’s company stared in horror when they saw the two Durin boys stumbling across the battlefield, knowing that Kíli had precious small chance of surviving those injuries. Fíli pushed his legs onwards, locking his eyes on the mountainous horizon. Every one of his brother’s groans reassured him that he was not carrying a corpse. After a painful few minutes, they reached an empty patch of grass at the base of a small, rocky ledge. Although the battle was still near, this piece of land was, at least, not tainted with blood and steel. Fíli lay his brother down in the grass as gently as he could, and sat with his back to the battle, shielding Kíli. He placed both hands either side of his brother’s head, tilting it from side to side, waiting for his eyes to open. Sure enough, Kíli opened his eyes slightly, his dark pupils rolling back and forth as he battled with consciousness.

“Kíli, Kíli, Kíli… stay with me,” he whined desperately, tears now forming in his eyes. “You can’t die!”

“Where’s uncle?” Kíli’s slurred question brought him around.

Fíli breathed out slowly. “He’s dead.”

“Then I have failed him,” Kíli said feebly.

“No!” Fíli shook his head, his tears falling onto his brother's pallid face. “No!”

“Stay with me, please,” Kíli said, his request more of an attempt to keep Fíli out of harm’s way.

“I am not leaving you!” Fíli cried, his voice breaking, failing. “I can stop the blood - you… you won’t die!”

“This is the end, Fee.”

“No…” Fíli buried his face into his brother’s chest, wailing loudly, wishing for this to be a nightmare that he had yet to wake up from.

“I can’t feel my legs,” Kíli said.

Fíli looked up at him, smiling through his sobs. “That’s because you don’t have any!” he said, half laughing, half crying.

“I’m going to be with uncle Thorin now.” Kíli smiled and closed his eyes, as if to be enjoying the sunshine on a summer's day. He then turned to look at his brother one last time, breathing out his final words. “I love you, Fíli.”

“Kíli…? Kíli?” Fíli murmured timidly, kneeling over his brother and shaking frantically at his limp shoulders. Kíli was pale and cold; the last of his blood had drained out of him. His dark eyes stared hard into Fíli’s, and this frightened him, knowing that life no longer remained in them. Soon Fíli’s body became weak and trembling with grief, and he let the tears stream from his eyes. Tears mixed with blood, and blood mixed with dirt. Everything was out of place. This was not supposed to happen. He was the older brother, the one that was supposed to look after Kíli when his mother could not. So innocent had they been, playing in the snow of the Blue Mountains, with only an inkling as to what the future might hold. Not in a million moons could they have predicted this.

All of a sudden, Fíli felt his body jolt forwards. A sharp pain seared through his chest, and when he looked down he saw the bloody tip of an arrow. The bright, red blood dripped down onto Kíli’s chin. Fíli clenched his teeth; the pain was almost unbearable. After accepting what this meant for him, he let his body collapse at his brother’s side, then wrapped his arms tightly around Kíli's torso.

“I love you too, brother,” he whimpered, shutting Kíli’s eyes with a shaky hand. It was there that Fíli lay until his last breath, huddling against his stone cold brother, until he was finally free of his pain.


End file.
